It's Only You That I'm Losing
by orangeiguanas4
Summary: She's full of anger coupled with sadness and the roller coaster of emotions are enough to make her feel like there's nothing left in Lima for her. Santana's reaction to Finn's death - a character piece based on Santana's role in "The Quarterback". Spoilers for episode 5x03.


**Author's Note:** This story is a character piece focused on Santana's reaction after Finn's death. It covers "The Quarterback" and her reactions. It's something that's been in the back of my mind for months and something that I discussed at length with my good friend, quasisuspect. This was easily the hardest thing I've ever written, and all I can hope is that I've done it justice.

The sound of the mug crashing against the kitchen floor and shattering into a million pieces seems to echo through the entire apartment. Through her headphones, she can only hear the muffled conversation, but then the wails start and she knows that something is terribly wrong. Rachel is dramatic, but that type of wracking sob only comes with the worst emotions.

Kurt's hands are shaking so badly and he's staring at them like he blames everything that's wrong in the world on the fact that they won't stay steady. The floor is covered in shards of the ceramic mug, a dark brown pool of coffee amongst the wreckage. Kurt's pants are splattered with the liquid as well, the dark coffee standing out in horrible contrast against their pastel blue.

She stands there, completely useless, as Rachel's voice gets choked up again and again on her own tears. Rachel's face is buried in her arms, her body hunched over the scuffed wood of their kitchen table. Santana doesn't know what to do first and she stands frozen, afraid to ask the question that is hanging in the air between them.

_What happened?_

It feels like an eternity that she stands, stiff and as still as a statue on the edge of the scene before Kurt finally lets his hands drop to his side, his shoulders visibly drooping with the motion. She bites down on her lip hard enough to leave a mark as she waits for him to give her even the slightest hint of an explanation.

"It's Finn."

Her mind flashes back to the phone call she received on Rachel and Finn's wedding day, only moments before the ceremony. It was Quinn's mom, her voice panicked and strained as she tried to explain that Quinn was being rushed into surgery and that she might never walk again. The tightness in her chest increases ten-fold at the memory, every muscle in her body deciding to constrict at once.

"He-" Kurt's words fall off again like he doesn't know how to say what comes next. Santana stands there, her blood pumping so fast through her veins that she's getting lightheaded. "He's gone."

Her body and her mind seem to separate in the following moments. Visions of the worst scenarios flood through her and the strangled cry she emits sounds like it's coming from someone else altogether. The world seems to go black - she doesn't know for how long - but when she comes back to reality, she's on her knees on the kitchen floor, a piece of broken ceramic cutting into the palm of her left hand, leaving droplets of blood on the floor next to the spilled coffee.

Rachel is staring at her, eyes bloodshot and puffy, the trail of her mascara making her cheeks look dark and sunken. Kurt sidesteps the mess and reaches for Santana's good hand and helps her to her feet, his hand clammy in hers. He guides her to the sink and she turns on the faucet and lets the cold water run over the cut. Despite the fact that she can see the blood running down the sink, there is no physical pain emanating from the wound. All she can see is Finn strutting down the hallway of their old high school like he owns the place flashing through her mind. The memory is vivid; it makes her shiver and she yanks her hand out from the water, pressing the dish towel to it instead.

"What do we do?" Kurt says, his voice choked with unshed tears. Santana can't do anything but shake her head, her disbelief too strong to consider the fact that Finn could actually be gone.

Rachel breaks down in tears again, her chest heaving with the labor of her breathing. Santana goes into protector mode - as much as Finn was her friend, he was a lot more than that to both Rachel and Kurt. It's awkward, standing next to Rachel as she sits hunched over at the table, but Santana wraps her arms around Rachel's shoulders and tries to soothe her, like there's some way that her touch could keep Rachel's whole body from falling apart.

Kurt starts cleaning up the spilled coffee like he just needs to do something, anything, that feels productive. It's a tiny bit of control that he can have when his universe is unraveling.

Eventually, out of exhaustion it seems, Rachel's sobs slow into wet sniffles against Santana's shoulder. Santana slips away from her and sits down at the table, dropping her head into her hands. Kurt starts a new pot of coffee before slumping into the seat across from Santana.

Santana's stomach growls, even though her hunger doesn't seem to register to her otherwise. Sitting here in silence is making her crazy when she wants to be punching things or yelling at someone because there's no fucking reason that Finn shouldn't be in their lives anymore when he was so young and full of potential and there are a million people in this world that actually deserve to die. Rachel looks like she's never going to leave her spot at the table, even if it means withering away to nothing.

The fridge is pretty bare - she and Rachel usually hit the grocery store on Friday after Rachel's classes - but she manages to find a half of a loaf of bread and some vegan egg substitutes. Santana's no chef, but she can whip up some French toast if it means doing something at least slightly productive to the well-being of her roommates when everything else feels wrong in the world.

Kurt picks at his plate and chugs down his coffee like he's trying to make sure he has enough caffeine in his bloodstream to never sleep again. Rachel, despite Santana's prodding, doesn't even pick up her fork. Santana forces her own breakfast down, though the nausea sets in immediately afterwards.

"I'm going to be late for class," Rachel muses quietly. Santana looks at the clock on the stove: it's 10:29.

"Your class ends in half an hour. Just email your professor," Kurt tells her calmly before walking out of the room and pulling the curtain closed around his bed. Santana knows better than to disturb him - just because he didn't cry in front of them doesn't mean that he's not feeling destroyed inside.

"Cassie is going to have a field day with me missing her class," Rachel comments, like missing a dance class at NYADA is really the worst thing that has happened this morning. Santana wants to laugh at the absurdity of them being able to just pick up and go on with their lives like Finn is still around to do the same. Everything is different. There's no way for anything to ever be the same again.

~!~!~!~

Going on Facebook the morning after they get the news makes Santana so angry that she doesn't even know how to express it. There's a memorial group for Finn already in full swing with dozens of her old classmates leaving messages about what a great guy he is. People that never talked to Finn, who never meant anything to him, take the time to post about him like he's some sort of martyr just because he didn't make it past nineteen. Finn, the guy who used to throw his own step-brother into a dumpster for fun, was suddenly a hometown hero crowned by kids that he never gave two shits about.

His name is everywhere - in statuses, in tagged pictures, in comments on Rachel and Kurt's walls. Santana feels haunted by her own memories of him. So much about his absence makes her feel emotions that she had buried away. They may have acted fine around one another on the exterior, but she knows they had so many unresolved issues that she's still not ready to come to terms with. And now he's not even here to make them right.

Santana ignores the messages that pour in from the glee club kids asking how Rachel and Kurt are handling everything like this is just another piece of gossip to be passed around their social circle. How are they supposed to be handling it at all? Kurt is missing his only sibling, even if they only became a family a couple years ago. But Rachel? How can any their age really understand what she's going through? Finn and Rachel were the one couple that Santana knew in her gut were going to make it, despite Rachel's crazy Broadway dreams and Finn's lack of any real ambition to be more than mediocre. They had some weird sort of pull that just worked for them. Now Rachel is supposed to just move on with her dreams like he was never an integral part in them in the first place.

Mrs. Hudson-Hummel decides to not have a public funeral. Burying her only son is difficult enough and planning a big funeral is about the last thing she can handle. Nobody protests; instead they throw their energy into trying to honor him in their own ways. Kurt goes home just for the weekend to support his parents and while he's there, he starts arranging a memorial week with Mr. Schue at McKinley for the glee club to mourn together. In three weeks, they'll all be back in Lima, if only for a few days.

Rachel doesn't even argue about the fact that she was supposed to be Finn's family, she was supposed to be his wife, she was supposed to be his forever. She shows no interest in being there to say goodbye to Finn when he's lowered into the ground. Instead, she just continues to refuse to get out of bed for the fifth day in a row. In the end, Kurt leaves without her, his face sullen and body exhausted from nights without sleep.

Santana has no choice but to work her normal shifts, though she gives up on trying to find open mic nights and auditions for commercials for the time being, choosing to be home whenever she can instead. There's really no point to being in the apartment, however. Kurt doesn't talk to her unless it's to ask her to check on Rachel. Rachel doesn't talk at all. She's somewhat of a zombie and Santana wants to shake her and tell her that she can't act like she's dead just because Finn is. She is playing Fanny-fucking-Brice on Broadway. Her biggest dreams, the ones that tore her away from Finn in the first place, are all coming true. But she lays there, unmoving, unresponsive to Santana's constant prodding to eat a little or take a shower or just to do _something_ to start dealing with the situation.

Kurt tries first to get Rachel out of bed in order to go to Lima for the memorial. She's completely unresponsive, her face buried in the pillows that are covered in tear stains from weeks of crying. When Kurt comes around the curtain to face Santana, she can see how helpless he feels. She gets it - this situation has made her feel the same way.

Her helplessness flares inside her, erupting as anger as she screams in Rachel's face for ten straight minutes. Still Rachel manages to stare blankly straight through her as if Santana is just the ghost of a bad dream haunting her. Eventually, Santana's chest hurts and tears start springing from the corners of her eyes. Kurt's hand comes to rest on her arm and he pulls her away, murmuring that they can't force Rachel to do anything that she doesn't want to do.

The whole plane ride Santana self-medicates with vodka tonics. By the time they touch down, numbness is finally permeating her entire body, and her anger disappears back under the surface.

Puck picks her up at the airport - she just doesn't want to ride with Kurt and his dad with this memorial hanging over their heads - and he just shakes his head sadly at smell of booze coming off of her, but offers to carry her bag and picks it up from her feet before she can respond. The ride to Lima is silent except for the radio - neither of them have anything to say that will make this unexpected reunion less horrible. He offers to drop her off at her own house or at a friend's, but she refuses both options. Puck doesn't argue and he drives to his own house instead. His mom is at work and he pulls a bottle of gin from the back of his closet as Santana settles down on his bed, the springs creaking under her weight.

She doesn't know when it is that the tears start pouring down her face, but Puck throws her a t-shirt that smells like it's drowned in cologne to wipe her face on.

"Dude, I need a shower and a smoke. You can crash in here, I'm cool on the couch tonight."

Santana isn't sure when Puck has grown into a halfway decent guy, but she gives him a sniffle and a nod before he grabs some clean boxers and a t-shirt from a drawer and heads across the hallway and into the bathroom. She climbs under the covers, pulling them tightly around her like the fabric might hold her together. His bed smells unmistakably like boy and too much of it brings her back to the hotel room with Finn. She can't get out fast enough and ends up tripping in the tangled blankets and smashes to the floor. The shower is still running so she slips back into her jacket and shoes before grabbing her bag and taking off out the front door.

She pukes in Mrs. Puckerman's front flowerbed, the burn of liquor stinging her entire throat unpleasantly. Stumbling, she makes it to the sidewalk before she realizes she has no idea where to go. Her house is on the other side of town and she doesn't want to deal with her mother when she's in this state of disarray. Her first call would normally be to Quinn, but she's not coming to Lima - Yale isn't an easy place to take a week off from when it's time for finals. Brittany isn't here either, though Santana's not sure if that's a blessing or a curse. Mercedes doesn't answer her phone. Finally, she ends up calling a number she never thought she'd use.

Tina pulls up at Puck's house less than ten minutes later, and Santana doesn't miss the fact that she's dressing in black again. She wonders silently if it's because of the memorial or because Tina is just going through another phase, but she doesn't ask any questions.

"Where to?" Tina asks her, the car engine idling in the Puckerman's driveway.

Santana just shrugs. She can't think of one instance that she ever spent alone time with Tina Cohen-Chang in the three years that they were in glee together and she's realizing how little she actually knows about the girl. Is this what death does? Everything about this situation keeps making Santana realize how fucking wrong she's been about everything in her life. They were in the same club and supposedly a tight-knit group, but she honestly doesn't remember having a real conversation with Tina even once. Even within the lamest club in the entire school, the social hierarchy kept her from really getting to know the girl that drove across town to pick her up without a question.

"You hungry?" Tina asks, trying to at least start some conversation as she backs down the driveway cautiously. Santana doesn't tease her for driving like a grandma - she's been more careful about everything lately too.

Santana shrugs again. She remembers having a tiny bag of pretzels to help wash down the vodka tonics on the plane, but she can't recall the last meal she actually ate.

Tina seems to read her enough to realize that eating is probably a good activity and she pulls into the parking lot of Denny's just as the sun is setting over the horizon. Santana stands on the sidewalk and admires it for a minute - it's not nearly as stunning as watching the orange hues dance over the Hudson River in New York, but it's pretty and it feels right to stop and let it wash over her, if only for a minute.

For a moment, she wishes that Tina had taken them to Breadstix - despite all the amazing food in New York, nothing beats it in her mind, but that's probably the nostalgia talking - though as soon as they're seated in the red vinyl booth, she's grateful that she's not in the place that holds so many memories of Brittany. Tina is quiet as she looks over her menu across from Santana. Santana wants to talk - she's not sure about what - but her mind feels so cluttered and her chest aches from her outburst at Rachel that morning and she just needs to release it all.

Tina isn't the person for that. They're hardly more than acquaintances. Santana's sure she only agreed to pick her up because Finn's memorial is hanging over their heads, but she chooses to not care about Tina's motivation behind it.

The waiter comes and Tina orders blueberry pancakes and an orange juice. Santana realizes that she hasn't even glanced at the menu. She points at the first combo platter, which pretty much looks like a heart attack on a plate in the picture.

"So…" she says after their waiter walks away. She doesn't remember being this awkward around Tina in the past, but six months of being away from the choir room makes her realize how much they've all grown apart.

"How are you enjoying New York?" Tina asks, navigating the silence with the utmost care.

"It's cool, I guess," Santana replies, offering no details about what she's been up to. It's hard to brag when she gave up a cheerleading scholarship to wait tables and sing oldies on demand. Still, it's New York, and that's definitely better than this place.

"I'm applying to some schools out there," Tina comments nonchalantly. She too doesn't offer any more information. Santana wonders if it's to keep from bragging or because she doesn't think that she'll get into the likes of NYADA.

"Sounds like it's going to be a fucking reunion there next year," Santana snarks. Considering how desperate she was to escape this podunk town, it does seem like it's haunting her with the way that the glee club continues to be her innermost circle of friends.

"Anything is better than here, right?" Santana can't manage more than a nod. Of course Tina is right. She hates Finn for forcing them to return to this place, especially after she promised herself that she would stop coming back. It's hard to make progress when you're still stuck with one foot in your dumb little hometown.

Their food comes and Tina picks at her plate, mostly pushing pieces of pancake around with her fork. Santana, on the other hand, figures that eating will at least squash the need to talk. Thankfully, Tina seems to get the message and doesn't try to initiate anymore conversation.

Santana picks up the check - she figures it's the least she can do after making Tina come pick her up - and they walk together back to Tina's car, the awkwardness palpable.

Tina starts the engine, but doesn't pull out of the parking lot. She's obviously waiting on Santana to tell her where to go.

"Hey, Tina?"

Tina turns at looks at her, knuckles white from her grip on the steering wheel.

"I know we're hardly friends." Santana laughs, even though it's not even funny. Tina doesn't look amused. "It's just that everything is so fucked up."

Tina just sits there and doesn't offer anything.

"You didn't have to pick me up tonight. You could have just ignored my call. Why didn't you?"

Tina sighs and stares straight through her.

"Whether we're friends or not, we're all going through similar crap right now. I figured things had to be bad if you were resorting to calling me."

"When are you going to stop putting the good of the team above yourself? Seriously though. You want to perform. I know you're dying to get into NYADA. But they only take one kid from a school per incoming class. You watched Kurt go up in flames because of it. You're better than Blaine, but you're going to blow it because you always put everybody else before yourself."

It's a dose of truth, which is what Santana does best. She's brutally honest - often beyond what people ask for - and she's not afraid of the consequences of saying what's on her mind.

"I don't have his resumé and -" Tina begins.

"Listen up, Cohen-Chang, 'cause I'mma 'bout to get real with you. I've been at NYADA. I've had the whole NYADA glee club practicing in my damn living room on too many occasions. Guys like Blaine are a dime a dozen at NYADA. He's not special. He's not unique. He's a cookie-cutter mold for a back-up dancer in an off-Broadway production. There are a million hair-gel obsessed gay men in New York, but there aren't too many Gothic Asian chicks with a killer range and decent dance moves."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt to apply," Tina muses.

"Don't just apply. Win the spot. You can't worry about Blaine's feelings. Be selfish for once and you might actually make it in this business."

Tina starts to crawl out of the parking lot, and Santana knows it's time to drop the subject. Judging by the way Tina seems to be sitting a little taller, she thinks that she might have actually gotten through to her former teammate.

"Your house or somewhere else?" Tina asks as they reach the first stoplight leading into the center of Lima.

"I guess mine."

The light turns green and Tina starts rolling slowly enough to cause the person behind her to honk.

"Uh, I don't know where you live."

Santana spouts out quick directions. Thinking about it, Tina probably though she actually lived in Lima Heights all of this time. Her parents' two-story brick house in the same neighborhood as the Fabray mansion is most likely not what the other girl was picturing.

It's only five minutes longer before they're pulling into Santana's driveway - Lima isn't that big of a place - and Santan unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her bag from the backseat.

"Hey, thanks for this," she tells Tina genuinely.

"Don't mention it," Tina says shyly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"I'll see you in the morning then."

"Yeah. See ya."

Santana climbs out of the car and fumbles for her keys. Her parents' house key is nestled between her apartment keys, looking worn compared to its shiny counterparts. Tina backs down the driveway and hesitates for only a second to make sure Santana gets into the house before she drives away.

~!~!~!~

Getting ready to go to McKinley the next morning takes three hours of preparation. Santana's mom wakes her up early and forces her to eat breakfast. She stomachs a plate of scrambled eggs and toast before her mother releases her again, hugging her close before she hurries off to work.

She can't help but think about Finn's mom. When was the last time she got to hug him goodbye before she lost that chance forever? She sees the own hurt in her Mamí's face, the reality of losing a child hitting harder these days than ever before.

Part of her feels bad for how little she comes home to visit. Santana loves her parents. They've done everything they can to support her dreams and she repays them by hardly returning their weekly phone calls.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in her new life, being 500 miles away from Lima. New York doesn't hold the reminders of her childhood, of being forced out of the closet, of her grandmother's disapproval.

She doesn't have to see Finn everywhere she turns.

However, it is nice to take a shower in her personal bathroom. There's enough hot water - that's a rare commodity in the loft with three divas - and she basks in it. Taking a page out of Rachel's book of insanity, she runs some basic scales and loosens up her vocal chords. Singing about her feelings is about the last thing she feels like doing today, but they have the memorial ceremony this morning and she doesn't want to sound flat.

Sure, she has a song in mind that she'd like to dedicate to Finn before the end of the week. There's even a ridiculous, sappy note about him tucked into her purse that she scribbled down one night after listening to Rachel sob for hours on end.

All she can hope is that somehow they heal from this. Somehow they find a way to move past this. Hopefully it's something they can do together.

She towels off and digs through her suitcase for her hair products and some clothes. Everything is unorganized - no matter how long she lives with them, she'll never be able to absorb Rachel and Kurt's levels of anal-retentiveness - but she manages to find what she wants once the suitcase is ninety percent dumped on the floor of her bedroom.

It's harder every day that passes to hide the growing bags under her eyes. Her skin is breaking out everywhere - her mother would tisk and tell her that she's too stressed out for a beautiful nineteen year-old with heaps of potential - and she sits at her vanity, slowly trying to hide away the pain.

They're supposed to be in the choir room by ten - it's already twenty past nine and she's still not dressed. Kurt messaged her to say that he'd pick up her regular coffee order and she thanks him, but she can't help but keep checking for messages.

Santana isn't even sure what she's expecting. It's not like someone is going to send her a message of encouragement to be strong through all of this. Dani knows why she's in Lima and she's been more amazing that Santana could ever hope, but the girl has her own crap to worry about. She's not around to assuage Santana's out of control emotions when they're hundreds of miles away.

In five minutes she should be in the choir room, surrounded by people that she's had little to no contact with over the past three months. Instead, she's sitting in her car in the parking lot, engine idling.

She swipes a thumb across the screen of her phone and hits a number listed in her favorite. It rings four times before going to voicemail.

_Hi, you've reached Rachel Berry. I'm probably busy reaching for the stars! Leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can! Okay, byeee!_

It has all of the childlike enthusiasm and a hint of obnoxious Broadway diva that she's learned to associate with Rachel over the years. Santana also realizes that it's the first time she has heard Rachel's voice in weeks for more than a grunted word.

"Hey, Rach. It's me, Santana. Look, I know you're devastated. I can't even imagine what this feels like for you. I'm sitting outside the high school and I can't even convince myself to walk through those doors because that means that all of this is real. I want to wake up from this bad dream. I want you to never have to be in this much pain again. But I'm going to do this because it's what Finn would have wanted - all of us back together again. We're going to miss you this week, Rach. You're the glue. You've always been the leader and it's not right without you here. Please take care of yourself, okay? Okay. Well. I'll see you when Kurt and I get back to New York I guess. Bye."

Santana ends the call with a sigh.

9:02.

Time to face the music.

The room is pretty full, even with some very obvious absences. The younger kids hover in the back, like the don't want to impose on this moment. Santana walks in as her friends - can she still even call them that? - are all hugging in the middle of the room.

It looks pretty much the same way that it did the last time she was here - though it hasn't been very long in retrospect - except there's no lesson on the board. And everybody is wearing black.

She lets herself be pulled into the hug by Mike, his arms strong around her shoulders and she fights back the sobs that ache within her chest. It's a relief when they finally let go and they all settle into those stupid red plastic chairs that Finn spent so much time kicking over.

Mr. Schue talks for a couple of minutes, his voice somber as he explains the agenda for the memorial service. It's going to be short - just a few words and then their song - but she feels the nerves about it being perfect. The truth is that it won't be. They haven't practiced together at all. She knows the song by heart - her solo line has dug a hole in her chest since she got the email from Blaine last week - and she knows everybody else will pull their weight.

She stands at the back of the stage, away from the spotlights as the song begins and builds. Mike squeezes her hand once quickly as they wait for their cue and she's grateful for the smallest of reassurances before they're walking forward and the lights beam down hotly on them. There's no choreography to remember, no worries about missed harmonies. The song flows from deep within every single person on the stage and the pain is palpable, hanging in the air with every note.

It's a relief when the curtain falls in front of them. There's a polite round of applause from the modest audience - mostly Finn's teachers and coaches, Burt and Carole, and a handful of friends outside the glee club. Santana hears Mr. Schue talking, those his words are muffled by her own thoughts buzzing through her head.

Puck's hand is resting on Santana's shoulder and she lets him do it, even if she'd rather be far away from physical contact right now.

She's not ready to break, not with all of these people around.

He seems to get the point after a moment and moves away from her.

There's a reception after the memorial - just a little gathering put on by Finn's parents and Mr. Schue with finger sandwiches and awkward conversation in hushed voices - but the glee club votes to skip it and grab lunch together instead.

It's just as somber as it would have been if they were conversing over finger sandwiches. Nobody seems like they really want to talk. Or else they're all just afraid to say the wrong thing. It's hard to know where the line is. Sure, they can try to talk about the good times. They can pretend there weren't any bad times. But it feels wrong to laugh and most of the good stories about Finn will cause that reaction.

So instead, they sit together, there physically, but everybody off in their own world.

Santana is relieved when the bill is paid and they're all left to their own devices for the rest of the day. Of course, for her that means retail therapy. Granted, the Lima mall is not nearly in the same league as shopping in New York City, but it's way cheaper and she figures her parents won't give her a hard time about putting some new things on the credit card with the kind of month she's been having.

By dinner time, she's weighed down in bags. Neither of her parents are going to be home anytime soon, so she makes herself a grilled cheese sandwich and eats in front of the TV watching reruns of Jersey Shore. It's mind-numbing and a welcome distraction from the anxiety about what the rest of the week is going to hold.

The next morning, Santana is actually early to the choir room. They all show up within minutes of one another, but she takes a seat in the back by herself and nobody attempts to join her. She knows that must mean that her bitchface has shown up in full force today.

Santana prefers it in here. At least they all understand what it feels like. They understand what it was like to be part of this underdog team with Rachel and Finn steering the ship.

As expected, Mr. Schue tells them to use the week to perform as their personal memorials to Finn. Finn's name is up on the whiteboard, staring back at her. She's not ready to sing though, so she settles into a chair in the far back corner and waits for someone else to volunteer.

She thought it would be okay to listen to other people sing about Finn.

But it's not. Mercedes sounds amazing, but Santana can hardly look at her. Everywhere around her people are hurting. And she can't do a thing about it.

Nobody else wants to go after Mercedes, however, and Mr. Schue sends them on their way for the day, figuring it's all too much at once. It's hardly eleven o'clock. Some of the others talk about meeting up for lunch later, but Santana brushes past them and out of that claustrophobic classroom.

She doesn't breathe much better in the parking lot though. It takes ten minutes of sitting in her car, hands trembling, before she feels enough in control to drive.

Without thinking, she ends up pulling in the visitor parking lot of the Lima Memorial Hospital. Her dad is working - he's pretty much always working - but her mom had mentioned over breakfast that he wasn't scheduled for surgery until the evening today, so she figures it's okay to stop by. The nurses greet her with a smile - not unlike the fake one she's seen them wear a million times as they deal with a family member of a patient - and she followings the maze of hallways until she gets to her dad's office.

He's bent over a pile of files on his desk, but the door is ajar and Santana knocks lightly before stepping over the threshold.

"Santana, I wasn't expecting you," he says mildly, taking his reading glasses off of the brim of his nose and dropping them onto the files before getting up to hug her. She lets him embrace her and she notices it's longer than usual. He's not usually much for physical affection in general.

"Mamí said you didn't have surgeries scheduled early in the day, so I thought maybe we could have lunch?"

He smiles warmly at her and brushes his fingertips along her cheek quickly before dropping his hand to his side, almost like he's ashamed to be so mushy with his grown daughter.

"Of course, my sweet Santana. I need about fifteen minutes to wrap up these files and then I'll meet you down in the cafeteria?"

She nods and lets herself out of his office.

It's a quiet lunch - Santana's dad has never been much for bubbly, or even engaging, conversation - but it's what she needed after the morning's events. He asks questions now and then about how she's doing in New York and if she's considering going back to college anytime soon, but doesn't press her too much. She answers him between bites of her chef's salad. By the time he's saying goodbye to her in the lobby with promises of at least one more meal together before she leaves again, Santana's nerves have settled a bit.

Santana spends the rest of the day locked up in her childhood bedroom, trying to ignore all of the memories that seem to have permeated the walls. It's impossible to look anywhere without seeing a piece of Brittany etched into it. She tries to crank up her music and forget everything. She's sick of the ache in her chest and the burning of her eyes from unshed tears. She's tired of the sleepless nights and the constant worry for how they're all going to end up.

She wakes the next morning on top of the comforter. She doesn't remember going to sleep - though at some point she got up and changed into pajamas because her dress is in a crumpled heap next to the bed and she's wearing a t-shirt with Lord Tubbington's face on it that she's sure didn't come out of her suitcase. Though, she feels more rested than she has in weeks so she embraces it and puts on some pants before trekking downstairs for breakfast.

"Are you feeling okay, Santana?" Her mother asks, immediately sticking a hand onto her forehead to check her temperature. Santana swats at it and scowls until her mother gets the hint and moves back towards the sink where she was washing dishes. "You never made it down for dinner. I found you already asleep at 6 o'clock."

"It's been a long few weeks," Santana reminds her. "My roommate Rachel - you know the loud singing one that dated Finn? - she hasn't been doing so well since all of this started."

She hears her mom click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It's a noise she's so familiar with. It means her mom is thinking of how best to phrase what's on her mind. She has that poise, the ability to think before she speaks. It's not a trait Santana was lucky enough to inherit. She got her grandmother's brashness instead.

"Will you eat some breakfast? I can make eggs or waffles or a breakfast burrito or -"

"Some oatmeal and toast is fine, Ma."

Her mom doesn't fight her on eating more than that - there's a time that she wouldn't eat anything but a Sylvester shake in the morning and she hasn't forgotten her mother's worried glances during that period of her life.

"I know you and your friends are going through so much right now," Maribel tells her as she puts water on for Santana's oatmeal. "And I know you. You're holding in your own pain about it because you are trying to save Rachel."

Santana taps her fingers on the counter, unsure of how to respond to her mom. She's never been good with these open talks. It's probably the reason that Brittany always got along so well with her mom - they both are good with talking about their feelings.

"I promise it'll get better. It won't go away - nor would you ever want it to. But Rachel will grieve in her own way and then she'll start pulling her life back together when she's ready. You're a good friend for supporting her. But you can't fix her."

She knows that Rachel is definitely part of her mood right now, but she also has no idea how to explain to her mom everything else that is tied to Finn. He's the one that outed her in that hallway, that caused her to forfeit her relationship with her abuela. Sure, there were times that he was a great guy and those are the moments that she's trying to desperately to hold onto. But part of her hates him too - for his careless insensitivity, for the way he treated Brittany like she was a moron, for how he thought Rachel was just a pawn in his life that he could use when it was convenient for him.

How do you express to your mom that you hated someone almost as much as you loved them?

Thankfully, Mrs. Lopez seems to be done with hard emotional talks for the day and Santana lets her mother kiss her forehead before they part ways.

They don't have to wear black today, which is a minor relief. It felt so staged, the boys in their dark suits and the girls in modest black dresses yesterday. It was no better than being in a show choir costume. That's all it was: putting on a show.

It's been three weeks. And frankly, she's sick of black.

Her red dress is tight and she knows she looks hotter than is probably appropriate for a memorial gathering, but it makes her feel good in a way that nothing else has lately. It's something that she can control and she's willing to capitalize on that one tiny thing in case it's the only chance she'll have for the day.

They meet in the auditorium for Sam and Artie's performance. It's much more intimate today with them all sitting in a circle on the stage. For a fleeting moment, it reminds her of the day they sat there after Karofsky tried to commit suicide.

Mercedes joked that day about wanting to meet Rachel Berry's children. There wasn't a person in that room that doubted that they would have the last name Hudson. They all had dreams. They had hopes. They had ambition to find something greater in the world. They wanted to make a difference in their futures. It's been a year and it feels like the wheels are spinning but they're not getting anywhere.

It seems like the saddest of times are what bring them together, in a circle where they all are equal. The new kids, clutching to one another like they're too young to grasp the enormity of the situation. The older kids, thinking they'd never be back on this stage together again.

The song is a classic, but she doesn't feel like having a sing-a-long. She lets the younger kids carry the harmonies, chiming in only when someone's eyes meet hers. It's an act. She's putting up a front and acting like this is the best way for them to grieve - in a sharing circle, together, singing songs about Finn. Everybody else seems to think it's the best way. Except Rachel, who was either too weak to make the trip or too strong to give into the pressure of having to be in this damn building again.

Rachel is the one that said she was looking forward to being friends with everybody for the rest of their lives. Yet she's not here. She's the one that's pulling away from them.

Santana hardly makes it through the song before she's fleeing from the auditorium. She doesn't want to cry in front of them. She doesn't want their sympathy or their understanding for how horrible and conflicted she feels inside.

Finn's locker is surrounded by artifacts memorializing him, honoring him.

Her look-alike is there, blowing out candles with some other baby Cheerios and removing pieces of the memorial like it's nothing more than a nuisance taking up room in the hallway.

The fire burns through her and it's on pure emotion that she starts lashing out. It's scary how quickly the emotions take over after spending three weeks of keeping them so under control. This fake wannabe is a bitch and Santana has to suppress the urge to strangle her right there in the middle of the hallway.

Santana sees red at the mention of Coach Sylvester's name.

She storms into Sylvester's office uninvited and her rage tears out of her chest. If there is one person left in this miserable place that deserves the full power of her wrath, it is most definitely Sue Sylvester.

The woman went out of her way for years to tear them down, to make them feel like they were worse than nothing. Santana spent hours running every time she so much took a bite of a cookie in fear that Sylvester would notice that she broke the diet. Her eating habits were beyond unhealthy - nevermind her lunchtime purging routine in the science hall bathroom - and it was all because of the way Sue Sylvester made her feel worthless. She would never be pretty enough, or smart enough, or talented enough. She was going nowhere. She was destined to just be Sue's little minion for her entire life, living each day in a pathetic track suit in Lima, Ohio.

Her outburst is just as much about how Santana really feels about how Sue treated her and the other glee club members as it is about Finn and the locker memorial.

But it gets out of hand. All of the anger - anger that started building way before Finn's death - explodes from her. She reaches out and shoves Sue and watches in horror as her former Coach loses her footing and smacks into the bookcase.

The severity of the situation hits her. This isn't just a cat fight with Quinn in the hallway. This is the principal of the school, someone that's been her superior for years. Donna, the secretary, looks horrified as Santana flees from the office.

She's sure that the police will be here in a matter of minutes. Honestly, she can't blame Coach Sylvester. It's assault.

Santana expects the tears to come with the release of emotion. Her eyes physically burn with the need for release, but she just can't let go.

Part of her just wants to flee this building and all of its horrible memories. She's standing in the hallway - which is thankfully empty while classes are going on - and she can see the spot where she fought with Finn that day.

_Hey Santana, why don't you just come out of the closet? _

Her body gets goosebumps, exactly like it did when she heard those words being shouted from behind her. She had pushed him too far. Mostly people hated her brutally honest ways, particularly because they usually came with at least a mild form of bullying. She couldn't blame Finn for lashing out.

She didn't get a word in edgewise before he continued, but honestly she's sure that she was so taken aback that she couldn't form coherent thoughts in the first place.

_You know, I think I know why you're so good at tearing everybody else down. It's because you're constantly tearing yourself down because you can't admit that you're in love with Brittany and she might not love you back. That must hurt to not be able to admit to everyone how you really feel. You know what I think you are? A coward._

For someone who loved to dish the truth, no matter how horrible it was, it sure sucked being on the receiving end for once.

She did love Brittany. God, she loved that girl more than she even understood at the time.

Part of her is glad that Finn made her confront it. In the end, it got her the girl.

But she misses her abuela so much that some days she can't hold it together. The worst part about being in Lima is not being able to stop by her abuela's house in the afternoon. She wants to curl up on the couch and watch the Spanish soaps while her abuela mutters under her breath about how all the men are idiots. Being dead to her abuela while still being alive is one pain that just refuses to fade. And it's all Finn's fault.

This week is supposed to be able moving on and dealing with their grief. Nobody has told her how to get over the anger or regret.

There's music coming from the choir room and Santana figures they've continued with their dedications despite her absence. As much as she wants to flee, if Sue was really going to have her arrested, it would have happened already. And she came all the way here that she figures she better sing her song at least.

The two new boys - little Puck and baby Bieber hair - are just taking their seats to a round of applause.

They're quiet when they see her in the doorway, though she can feel Mr. Schue's concerned glance on her.

"I want to perform," she tells him and he nods once, gesturing for her to go right ahead.

There's a piece of paper tucked into her bra. It took her forever, but she wrote nice things about Finn. Despite the anger and frustration with never making amends that have been haunting her for weeks, she knows that underneath it, Finn could be a decent enough guy.

She meets Puck's eyes, then Tina's, then Mercedes's and Mike's. They all look at her with solemn faces. Seriousness makes her uncomfortable and the written message completely fades from her mind. God, just being here is more than enough sharing is caring time than she had wanted to sign up for.

"Okay, I know that Finn had his doubts about God, but I am convinced that squishy teets is up in Heaven right now plopped down next to this new best friend Fat Elvis helping themselves to a picnic of baby back ribs smothered in butterscotch pudding and tater tot grease. So this is for you, Hudson." They all look back at her with incredulous stares. It's like they really believed that she'd be able to say nice things, that she'd be able to commemorate him with kind, thoughtful words devoid of insults.

As usual, she disappoints.

The song itself is much more beautiful and expressive than her words would have been anyway. She lets the good memories of Finn fill her mind as she sings. Somehow, only the music can make all of the anger fade away in ways that nothing else has been able to make it do.

She hears the rest of them join in. It's a tribute. She knows they feel her pain. Her vulnerability is right there on display despite everything she's done to preserve the wall to keep them all out.

It's enough to make her lose it, right there in the middle of the song.

Mr. Schue and Mike jump up, determined to settle her. They're all sad. They're all processing. But she doesn't see anybody else having a complete meltdown in the middle of their song.

So she flees.

Running away from things seems to be what she's doing best today.

Of all places, she ends up in the damn auditorium again.

It's not exactly the best hiding place for someone that has a bunch of singing geeks that are probably going to come looking for her at some point. But for now, it's peaceful. There are no distractions in here. Nobody is solemn or sympathetic or trying to make her feel all of the things she's desperately trying to hide from.

She's not stupid. She knows at some point she'll have to come to terms with this guilt and regret. Three weeks just seems too soon.

Time is a concept that is lost on her - she's not sure if she's been sitting on the stage for five minutes or five hours when Kurt appears.

Of all people to find her, Santana is glad that it's Kurt. He's probably the only one in that damn room that understands what she's going through. Finn may have been Kurt's step-brother, but their history was messy and angry too. There were tosses in dumpsters and slushies thrown in Kurt's face by Finn more than anybody else in the glee club.

Plus, Kurt won't make her talk about it if she's not ready. Just like he hasn't pushed Rachel to get out of bed, even if it means that she might lose her spot at NYADA or her role as Fanny. She knows Kurt is hurting too - how could he not? - but somehow he's managing to be more at peace with this than anybody else seems to be.

He gets Santana to read her letter. Her cheeks burn with embarrassment, talking about the one night she spent with Finn in a hotel room - a manipulative move on her part in the first place - and about the cake on her ass. She can't believe that she'd ever be able to talk about those things in front of the entire glee club.

Kurt just helps solidify that despite all of Finn's screwups, even the ones that Santana feels like she'll never move past, Finn did, in fact, have a decent side to him. He was never going to be perfect, but he tried sometimes.

And he died before he ever had the chance to really amend his many mistakes.

Santana knows she can't blame him for that part, but it's so hard to not hold him accountable, even if he's no longer here to change it.

Kurt leaves her when she asks him to and she lets herself cry with Finn's letterman jacket weighing down on her shoulders. It smells like his Old Spice cologne - he always did wear way too much of it - and she digs her hands into the pockets.

There's a movie ticket stub and a gas receipt. She's not sure what she really expected to find in the pockets of a forgotten high school jacket that has been in the back of his closet for months. To be honest, she's not really sure what she's looking for in all of this anyway.

She wants to be back in New York. She wants to be in the arms of her girlfriend. She wants the world to move on with her living in it. And she knows it's not going to be that easy. New York means trying to help Rachel get back on her feet. It means realizing that she still doesn't have a direction in life beyond waitressing to pay the rent. But at least it holds more promise than this stupid town.

Santana waits until the last bell has rung to go back to the choir room to collect her belongings. It's empty, the rest of her friends having taken off earlier apparently.

She has a missed call from Kurt inviting her to the Lima Bean with some of the others. For the second day in a row, she doesn't feel up to it so she hides up in her room again.

Her mom manages to get her downstairs for dinner tonight at least and she's glad because her mom's cooking is amazing. It's her favorite comfort food and it's really welcome after months of cooking for herself. Plus, it's full of delicious meat that she gets to eat less and less in her own apartment.

Her dad is still at the hospital, so it's just the two of them. Santana doesn't mind; her mom doesn't ask too many questions about her day. They make small talk, chatting about nothing in particular. It's nice to have the company without needing to deal with everything that seems to be going on in her life.

When they clear the table, her mother shoos her away from washing dishes.

"Go out with your friends. You all could use some unsupervised social time together that doesn't involve singing songs in a school."

Santana shrugs. She doesn't want to face her friends after her freak out in the choir room today, but she doesn't want to tell her mom that.

"I think I just want to sleep," Santana tells her and disappears upstairs before her mom can protest.

She takes a shower, cranking the heat up as high as her skin can handle it. Her body is exhausted, the emotions having torn her apart from inside out. She attempts to let them wash down the drain with her tears and the scalding water, but they stick adamantly, determined to weigh her down.

It has to get better with time, right? She'll have to forgive him for making her feel this way at some point because holding onto this anger is becoming too much to bear.

Part of it has to do with being back in Lima. Even if Finn was still here, those hallways would still be able to haunt her. She still wouldn't be able to drive past her abuela's house without feeling like there's a knife in her chest where her heart used to be. Ideally, she'd love to never be forced to return to this place ever again.

When she gets out of the shower, she checks her phone. Another missed call from Kurt followed by two text messages.

**I hope you're doing okay, Santana. I'm here if you need me. Any hour of the night.**

**I think Rachel might actually be coming to Lima.**

The first one makes her smile. Six months ago she wasn't close enough to Kurt to really understand how great of a friend he truly is. The boy is sleeping in the room next to where his brother used to be and yet he's the one reaching out offering help. It makes her feel like shit that she can't manage to do the same for him.

The second one makes Santana completely sick to her stomach.

If Lima is this horrible for her, she can't imagine what it's going to be like for Rachel. But it means Rachel has moved from her bed finally. It means she's deciding to live again. Santana can't help but be excited about that; it's one less thing weighing her down. All she can hope is that Rachel finds some closure here, or some way to deal with the incredibly horrible pain that must be haunting her every minute of every day.

It's a fitful night of sleep - her worry over Rachel keeps her up for the better part of the night - but she texts Kurt back early in the morning offering to make the day's coffee run and asks if she should get one for Rachel too.

Kurt tells her that Rachel's dads are picking her up at the airport and that she'll come over to the school when (or if) she feels ready. Santana knows better than to put money on Rachel showing up at all. If it was Brittany instead of Finn, Santana doesn't think she would ever walk into that building again, no matter how many memorials were set up.

Santana, however, feels like crap and doesn't want to be around the glee dorks when her head hurts this badly. So she takes off for the nurse's office, bypassing the choir room altogether. The nurse doesn't even seem to realize that she's not even a student here anymore and sends her to a cot in the back to sleep.

She hangs Finn's jacket on the hook and lies down on the horrible sterile bed, closing her eyes. This was always her favorite place to hide from Sue's wrath - nobody ever seemed to question why students were asleep in the nurse's office. Hell, she had even fooled around with Brittany in here after school hours.

The bell rings almost an hour later, startling her from her nap. She's groggy and could really use another shower after exposing herself to that cot, but she stretches her limbs and figures she should face the events going down in the choir room.

But Finn's jacket is gone. Panic rises in her chest. She's sure it wasn't a mistake - there were no other football players in the nurse's office and there's not a different jacket in it's place. Of all the people that would want Finn's jacket, she can only think of one that would hunt her down in the nurse's office.

She's going to fucking murder Puck.

He's just finishing up his song when she bursts into the choir room, her Lima Heights rage igniting within her. Honestly, he deserves every single ounce of it right now.

Over and over again he denies that he took the jacket. However, this is the same dumbass that tried to steal an ATM from a convenience store and lied to Quinn about using protection, so she's not exactly willing to trust him.

Mr. Schue breaks them up - though she's not any happier with Puck. The jacket is still missing. The one piece they had left with Finn has disappeared because he's acting like a selfish prick. Like it wasn't bad enough that he destroyed the tree planted in Finn's honor, he goes and makes it worse by stealing from his teammates.

Santana welcomes the break once she cools down in the girl's bathroom. She has business that she knows that she needs to take care of before she leaves.

Sue's secretary, Donna, looks terrified when Santana walks into the office, but Santana throws her hands up in surrender, gesturing that she comes in peace this time.

Sue doesn't seem surprised to see Santana despite what happened yesterday. Sue also doesn't really give Santana a chance to apologize. Her own regrets come spilling out and Santana just sits and listens. Even the most cruel person Santana knows is struggling to get past how her relationship with Finn was left. Sue was downright awful to Finn - all of them really - and Santana feels a little more at ease with her own regrets knowing that even Sue wishes things had been different while he was alive. Though she supposes only the loss can really bring those emotions to the surface.

And it sucks. There's just no better way to put it.

She has a little more respect for Sue by the time they're saying goodbye and parting ways. The woman might have made their lives hell for the better part of the past few years, but somewhere under all of that, there's a heart. Santana can definitely relate to that.

If nothing else, maybe this will help her not become Sue. That's more than she could have said a few months ago when Sue was offering her a coaching position. Santana doesn't want to be that person that people hardly tolerate anymore. She knows she's gotten better with Kurt and Rachel, plus Dani is helping a whole lot with not being a bitch all the time, but she's still so locked into her exterior of being tough and snarky when it comes to pretty much anybody else.

She's brutally honest - she doesn't think that's anything she'll ever be able to completely control. It's more like word vomit, especially when she's forced to deal with idiots. But she can try harder to be genuine, as well as honest. When's the last time that she told Mercedes how cool it is that her career is going so well? Has she ever once asked Mike about how the Joffrey Ballet School is? She doesn't think Mr. Schue truly understands what a huge influence he was on her following her dreams to New York and breaking away from Kentucky.

There are still so many people in her life that are here, still breathing and staying by her side despite how awfully she treated all of them at one time or another. Losing Finn can't change everything - she knows that to be true - but it can at least remind her that she has another chance to make it right with the people that are here now.

Mr. Schue suggests that they go to visit Finn's memorial on his locker together as a group. Santana has been avoiding looking, like really looking, at it since she got here. As none of the glee club has made any real contribution, it's made up of old classmates and teammates that he didn't even keep in touch with leaving generic messages and some flowers. They didn't really know him, they didn't know the kind of person he really was.

Not that she's putting her words up on that locker for the whole word to see. These people don't deserve to get to see her final goodbyes to Finn.

They place some drumsticks on the memorial for Finn and she can feel the sadness rippling through their group. Every moment that they're here together makes it feel a bit more real that he's actually gone, that he's not going to come back and sit behind the drum set as he jams before the lesson starts.

It doesn't feel like enough. The measly pair of drumsticks get lost amongst teddy bears, a football, and piles of flowers - both real and artificial. She's still staring at a pathetic group of daisies that are in a water bottle when she hears a voice she hasn't heard in a while.

Rachel shows up a lot earlier than Santana anticipated - granted, she really thought it wouldn't happen at all - and Santana wants desperately to hug her roommate tightly and never let go. Rachel is clinging to Kurt's hand and Santana can see from the other side of the hallway that she's shaking terribly. Yet, always the performer, Rachel manages to keep it together and praise her friends on how nice Finn's locker memorial turned out. Nobody bothers to tell her that they've hardly added anything more than a pair of drumsticks to the random array of crap.

They're all in tears as Rachel addresses them in the choir room. As always, Rachel is their rock, even when she's obviously the one that's hurting the most. How the girl has the strength to sing in times like these, Santana will never understand. She can see Rachel's heart is shattered into a million pieces that will never fit back together quite right as she sings the first song that Finn ever sang in the car with her. Yet Rachel hits every note, even when the tears try to choke out her voice. In this moment, she's the strongest person Santana has ever known.

Sam's head falls onto her shoulder, and Santana embraces him. After her apology to Sue and their heart-to-heart, Santana realizes that literally every single one of them are hurting. They're all showing it in different ways. Mr. Schue is coddling everybody to push off his own breakdown. Puck is drinking and destroying the memorial and possibly stealing Finn's old possessions. Tina is acting self-centered and focusing on ridiculously mundane things like her wardrobe to ignore the hole in her heart. Kurt is doing everything to help his parents get the affairs at home in order. They can't all be expected to grieve in the same way, but there's something about being in here that feels like a safe space. Her own walls are trying so hard to crumble and she can visibly see everybody else trying to do the same. Finn would have wanted them to never stop being themselves. They're all the pieces to a larger puzzle. And maybe the keystone, their quarterback, is missing forever, but they can still all hold onto one another.

As soon as Rachel finishes her song, Mr. Schue dismisses them for a while, figuring they all need some time to be with their thoughts. Kurt whisks Rachel away with a handful of tissues and Santana doesn't follow them. She's not good at having the right words to say and the last thing she wants is to make an unintentional horribly offensive joke at Finn's expense in front of his ex-fiancée and one of her best friends.

Instead, she takes to the hallway to hang signs about Finn's missing jacket. She's angry that anybody could possibly be so fucking selfish as to think it's okay to take something that was helping keep her together. Of course, the reward is just a bait because she's going to strangle whoever has the audacity to come forth and return the jacket.

Mr. Schue spots her at work. She's hardly had a real minute to talk to him with all of the craziness that has encompassed this week. But she's ready to be back home - home is most definitely New York these days - and she doesn't want to go without Finn's jacket.

She doesn't know why she tells him anything. Mr. Schue just stands and listens as she tells him how she never wants to come back. She knows it would kill her mother for her to never to return to Lima. Maybe she will, some day down the line when the throbbing pain in her chest has just become a dull ache. However, if she never has to walk into McKinley again, it'll be a day too soon.

All week, she's been walking away from her emotions, running away when anybody tried to comfort her. But within feet of Finn's memorial, she breaks down in Mr. Schue's arms. Because if nothing else, he always wanted them to fly off to bigger and better things. He wants the best for all of them, no matter what that might be. And more than that, he believes with his whole heart that they'll achieve it.

Mr. Schue never doubted for a minute that Finn would get into acting school. When it didn't work out, he helped Finn come up with other options, ones that were fulfilling to Finn. They ignited a purpose in him again, and got him out of his slump. Mr. Schue did that for all of them at one time or another.

It's not long before she's composing herself, wiping her tears quickly on the back of her hand and stepping out of Mr. Schue's embrace. He doesn't say anything. There's no advice to offer. Nothing anybody says or does is going to make Finn come back to them. Time is the only thing that's going to help at all and frankly, Santana is sick of pretending otherwise. Singing supposedly meaningful songs in an old choir room with a bunch of people that don't even go to this school anymore doesn't make anything better.

Of course, she doesn't bother telling Mr. Schue or the others that. Instead, she wipes at her tears harshly and excuses herself from the hallway.

She skips the normal hallway bathroom and heads for the locker room instead. Despite how much she hated being under Sue Sylvester's reign of terror day in and day out, there were plenty of advantages to being a Cheerio. Primarily, that was their state-of-the-art locker room.

It's nothing like the regular gym class locker room. The Cheerio locker room, off the side of the regular locker room, had been built on legacy donation money. The lockers were big and shiny, each girl's name affixed above one. Off to the side there is a small lounge – god forbid Sue's minions have to socialize with the common folk before practice – and in the back is the nicest bathroom in the school.

Bree, Santana's bitchy look-alike is on the couch in the lounge with another girl, their thighs touching and hushed words being exchanged between them. Santana knows this scene all too well – it's one that she engaged in regularly with Brittany in stolen moments when they were supposed to be in class.

Santana can't hold in the snort. This girl, the one who was busy blowing out candles for Sue and acting like a complete bitch to Santana only a couple of days ago, has way more in common with her than she ever imagined.

"Shouldn't you two be in class?" Santana drawls, a knowing smirk on her face. The second girl, a mousy girl that Santana is surprised is even on the squad, turns nearly purple with embarrassment. Bree keeps her face even, pulling her lips into a thin line.

"This is a private locker room and you're no longer a Cheerio last time I checked. You graduated, and it's not my fault that you and your pathetic little friends can't leave high school behind and spend all your time still hanging out here."

Santana feels the rage build within her again. She knows Bree is just protecting herself. Santana has done it a million times over the years, making sure to keep her secrets buried deep under a persona.

The other girl gives Bree a worried glance and mumbles something about getting back to study hall before walking briskly past Santana. Santana hears the heavy door of the locker room slam with a thud a moment later, leaving her with just Bree.

"I know you know this, because Sylvester will never let any of you useless newbies forget it," Santana starts. She glances past Bree and, sure enough, the plaque from their National championship is still hanging above the couch. Directly under it is a framed picture of herself, Quinn, and Brittany, arms wrapped around one another with the trophy sitting at their feet; the youngest Cheerios to have ever won a National title, there on the wall to live in infamy. "My picture is on that wall for a reason. I was a fucking star here and I got a full ride to cheer in college. Sylvester offered to let me coach the Cheerios this year. So don't think for a minute that I don't belong in this locker room. You girls wouldn't even have this lounge if it wasn't for the amount of money that my moves brought into this place."

Bree opens her mouth, ready to jump in with a retort that is full of venom, but Santana cuts in before she has a chance.

"My friends are not pathetic. I'm not pathetic. The real world is a whole lot different than this tiny bubble you're living in. You may be queen of the fucking palace here, but you're nobody when you're out of that uniform," Santana reminds her, gesturing to the red polyester. "You can be, some day, if you stop being such a miserable human being and just act like yourself."

Bree scoffs at her, obviously not willing to take advice from an old Cheerio that is still standing here in her alma mater, basking in the room that used to make her feel special.

"That girl isn't going to wait forever for you to get over your issues, you know," Santana tells her, changing the subject.

She can see the change in Bree's demeanor, the way her shoulders tighten defensively.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bree insists, crossing her arms over her chest, blocking the WMHS printed across her uniform.

"It's never going to be easy, but you're fooling yourself if you think that whatever you two are doing is just a fun break in the lounge between classes. Sneaking around is going to get old really fast when your heart doesn't agree with your head."

"There's nothing going on between Laura and I," Bree asserts again, though Santana sees the panic in the younger girl's eyes.

"Look, I get the whole bitch persona. For god's sake, I perfected it. But it gets fucking lonely when you continuously push everybody away."

"I'm not joining some ridiculous club where you sing about your feelings and rainbow flags fly in every corner," Bree ridicules, though Santana can hear the underlying desire in Bree's words to belong somewhere, anywhere that people will understand what she's going through.

"Glee club is not the solution for everything. Plus, they're reigning National champions, you have to actually be talented to get in these days," Santana tells her. "But that's not the point. I know what it's like to be angry all the time. You take it out on everybody else because you're mad at yourself for having feelings you can't control. Every ounce of it sucks. You can continue to be a cold-hearted bitch that never lets anybody in. You can spend the rest of your life living like that if you want, but you're never going to be happy if you're always hiding from part of you."

"I don't know what you expect me to do. It's not like I have any choice but to pretend that I like stealing other people's boyfriends."

Santana remembers those days clearly: sneaking off with Puck under the bleachers after football games, disappearing into bedrooms with seniors at parties after making sure everybody saw them. Finding Brittany in the Cheerio showers after all their teammates have left, stealing forbidden kisses under the hot water. She was playing roles, making sure she fit in perfectly so nobody could question what was under all the layers.

She promised herself since her talk with Sue that she'd try to be a better person. She'd let people know how she felt about them. She'd stop caring so much about what everybody else thinks so that she can feel happy being herself. Bree will probably never heed her advice about life, but at least she can walk away knowing that she did everything she could to help.

Santana crosses the small distance between her and Bree and snatches up Bree's cell phone from where she left it sitting on the arm of the red leather couch.

"Hey!"

Santana saves her number and hands it back to Bree, who holds it tightly and eyes Santana curiously.

"Just in case you need anything. I know how hard it is being different in Lima," Santana shrugs, and makes to walk away. Her makeup is still a mess from her breakdown with Mr. Schue and she wants to get back to spending time with her friends, especially since Rachel is here now.

Her back is to Bree and she's heading into the tiled bathroom, when she's being pulled back by tiny arms.

"I'm sorry about Mr. Hudson. He was kind of a dork, but the kids here worshipped him."

Santana just smiles lightly and bows her head in acknowledgment. Hearing him called Mr. Hudson makes her think about how he was going to be an actual teacher here some day and it makes her stomach turn over.

Bree doesn't know what else to say, and Santana is grateful when the girl decides to leave instead of making this interaction any weirder than it's already been.

The choir room is empty when she gets back, but she knows where to go.

Sure enough, they're all sitting in a circle on the floor of the stage, new members mixed in with the old. Mr. Schue sits with his arm around Rachel, whose eyes are red and puffy, but she's laughing. It's better than music to Santana's ears. Even Coach Beiste and Miss Pillsbury are here, sitting on Mr. Schue's other side.

Sam and Tina slide over with big smiles to let Santana join in the circle and she runs her palms along her dress before sitting on the floor between them.

"Remember when he _finally_ got the steps down at Booty Camp?" Puck recalls, running his hand through his hair. The mohawk days are far behind him. He's wearing an Air Force t-shirt and Beiste is looking at him with such pride that Santana thinks they must have talked. Light has returned to Puck's eyes for the first time since she's been home.

"God, he was a horrible dancer," Rachel laughs. "I almost ended up with a new nose because of his clomping dance moves."

Her heart feels a little lighter remembering Finn, face screwed up in concentration as he tried to get his feet to perform even the most basic choreography.

"I know we did this when everything happened with Karofsky, but do you think we can talk about what our futures hold, Mr. Schue?" Tina speaks up timidly. "I think Finn would want to know that we're still focusing on our dreams and that we're honoring him by not giving up."

"That's a great idea, Tina," Mr. Schue says warmly. "Who wants to start?"

"I know the Army didn't work out for Finn. He wanted to make his Dad proud by joining the service. Instead I'm going to wear a uniform," Puck tells them proudly, gesturing at his t-shirt. "I enlisted in the Air Force this morning."

A few of the guys clap him on the back. Beiste swells with pride at him.

"I'm going to focus on my internship at until I'm sitting in the executive chair," Kurt announces. "Finn might not have loved some of my design choices, but it was always my room that he ran into when he wanted to know if something matched."

"I'm going to direct movies," Artie tells them.

"I'm going to make a hit album and get to perform at the Grammys," Mercedes tells them.

"I'm going to NYADA," Tina says definitively. Santana reaches over and gives her a one-arm hug.

Some of the younger kids come up with answers until Mr. Schue looks at Santana.

"I'm still not sure what I want to do," Santana admits. "But New York is the right place for me. I have two awesome roommates and a job that lets me pay the rent and I'll figure it out as I go."

Rachel gives her a watery smile from across the circle.

It was only recently that Finn had finally decided what he wanted to do with his life. Some of them are just late bloomers, and Santana has come to terms with not being the obsessive planner that her roommates are. She'll figure it out - New York City is a big place full of thousands of diverse opportunities. Eventually, something will speak to her.

They end the day with hugs and well-wishes, tears and laughter. Santana says goodbye to those she won't see again, embracing Mr. Schue extra long in farewell, just in case she doesn't make it back to Lima anytime soon.

The graduates make plans to meet up for dinner at Breadstix later that night and Santana walks out to the parking lot with Rachel and Kurt, trailing in the wake of the rest of their friends.

Kurt peels off after hugging both of them, promising to meet up with them before heading to Breadstix. For the first time since Rachel showed up, Santana finds herself alone with her roommate.

"So, um, I'm glad to see you're out of bed," Santana tries, unsure what to say.

"You don't have to do this, San," Rachel tells her, reaching a hand out to brush along Santana's forearm. They pause in the parking lot, equidistant from their respective cars.

"Do what? Care about you?"

"Act like I'm going to break if you handle me wrong. I'm hurt and heartbroken and freaking sad, but I don't want to be treated like a porcelain doll. I've been through enough lately that I don't need people treating me differently on top of it."

"That's a little fucking hard when I've literally watched you slip away for three weeks. You haven't eaten, you haven't showered or changed your clothes. You've missed all of your classes and rehearsals and voice lessons. So yeah, you are fragile right now, Rach. You show up with this mask on like you're a pillar of strength, but you forget that Kurt and I talked directly to you and saw zero recognition in your eyes. You fucking scared me. We lost Finn and I don't want to lose you too."

"Santana, I -"

"You don't need to say anything. Just accept that until I see you actually start acting like Rachel Berry again, I'm going to worry about you." Rachel starts laughing and Santana just stares at her, completely confused. She drops her arms to her sides, causing Rachel's hand to slip off where it was resting. "Sorry, but I don't get how any of this is funny." She's actually kind of annoyed. After how much she's tried to be there for Rachel over the past month, it'd be nice if Rachel would at least attempt to appreciate it.

"It's not - Santana - I'm sorry. It's not funny. I just remember telling Finn how I'd do anything to be friends with you and Quinn. And look at me now. Santana Lopez is my best friend. I don't think Finn ever thought it would happen, but he humored me on it."

Santana shrugs. Honestly, she never saw herself being awkward Rachel Berry's amiable acquaintance, never mind roommate or best friend. Somehow, it works for them though and Santana isn't one to question the good things in life.

"You busy until dinner?" Santana asks her, reaching into her purse for her keys.

"I told my dads that I'd spend some time at the house today, but you wanna join us? You know how much Daddy enjoys your brash sense of humor."

Santana agrees without hesitation. The Berrys are kind of her favorite adults ever. She's only met them a handful of times over the years, but ever since she moved in with Rachel, they treat her like a long lost daughter, sending her little things in Rachel's weekly care package, making sure they talk to her when they Skype, taking all of them out to dinner when they visit. She loves her own parents deeply, but they're not the affectionate, warm personalities that Hiram and LeRoy are. It's different, but she loves them.

They wrap her in a tight embrace when they get to Rachel's house and she lets them happily. Hiram strokes her hair a couple of times before Rachel finally insists that they let her go and allow her to breathe again. Santana has no complaints, however. She's glad to be around dads that are so comfortable being affectionate with her, especially with how much she's needed it over the past few weeks.

LeRoy talks them into playing a board game, and while Santana pretty much hates anything to do with family fun nights, she finds herself excited to be included in this obvious family tradition. Rachel and LeRoy start setting up the board - it's Sorry, since Rachel says she's too tired to wipe the floor with them in Scrabble today - and Hiram asks Santana to help him with refreshments.

He starts pulling things out of the pantry and she finds some glasses in a cabinet and starts filling them with iced tea.

"Santana," he says softly, his voice hardly audible over the sound of the popcorn kernels popping in the microwave. She puts the pitcher of iced tea back in the fridge and turns to face him. "Thank you."

She knows why he's thanking her, but she doesn't feel like she really deserves it. In the end, she couldn't get Rachel out of bed or functioning again. Rachel managed to do that all on her own.

Santana nods slightly, acknowledging him without denying his praise. He closes the distance again, and she hugs him around the middle, fighting back the tears that seem to constantly be on the verge of spilling out these days.

"I know this isn't easy for any of you, but Rachel is lucky to have you and Kurt in New York with her, especially right now. I couldn't have asked the universe to give her a better pair of friends."

The guiltiness within Santana mixes with the happiness. She was awful to Rachel for a long time - with the help of Quinn and Brittany mostly - but she's really tried to be better since she's been in the New York. Despite her uncontrollable snarky responses and hard exterior, Santana knows that she cares about Rachel more than she cares about most people in her life, which is definitely more than she would have been able to say a few short months ago.

The microwave goes off and Santana uses it as an excuse to pull away before the emotions wash over her again. Hiram seems to understand her need for space and springs into action, grabbing the hot bag of popcorn and dumping it into a giant bowl. Santana grabs the drinks and heads back into the living room without him.

It's a quiet afternoon in which she discovers that Rachel is literally competitive at everything, including Sorry and Candyland. It's amusing, the way Rachel scrunches her eyebrows up when she's annoyed at factors she can't avoid (though Santana thinks that Rachel's dads are ganging up on her for their own amusement) and how frustrated Rachel is at the end when LeRoy does a little victory dance in light of his win.

When it's time to go meet their friends for dinner, Rachel disappears upstairs to change quickly, leaving Santana standing in the foyer with the Berry men.

"She's acting a bit more like herself," LeRoy observes, nodding his head towards the stairs. "We have you to thank for that."

"I haven't done much," Santana admits with a shrug. "She's strong all on her own."

"It's devastating," LeRoy comments. "I didn't think he should be marrying my only little girl while they were still in high school, but he was a good kid. I don't know how any of us can expect her to move on from it at all."

"But she will," Santana insists. If there's one thing that this week has taught her, it's that they all have aspirations that extend beyond this loss.

Rachel appears again then, cutting the conversation short. She's in an outfit that is much more NYC Rachel than what she wore earlier in the day, and while her makeup is minimal and Santana is pretty sure Rachel hasn't done more than brush her hair since she got off the plane, she looks healthier than Santana has seen her in a while.

It makes Santana smile, seeing the more confident side of Rachel peeking out from the dark clouds that have been hanging over her. Santana says goodbye to Rachel's dads - this time with each giving her their own hug and whispered words of gratitude and encouragement - before the girls are walking down the path to Santana's car.

Rachel climbs in the passenger seat like it's second nature, though Santana is pretty sure that they've never driven anywhere together. In New York, it's all public transportation and more walking than Santana ever imagined possible for a place where all the buildings seem to be on top of one another, and it's not like her and Rachel really hung out before Santana showed up unannounced at the front door of the loft a few months ago.

Santana likes Rachel's newfound comfort level around her, and she doesn't even bitch when Rachel immediately takes control of the radio, scrolling away from Santana's favorite hip-hop station in favor of one cranking out catchy pop tunes. However, seeing Rachel bounce in her seat along with the rhythm, even if it's hardly noticeable compared to her normal amount of energy, makes it feel like the pieces are forcing themselves back into place, like there's a little more order in the world, a little less chaos and destruction.

The Rachel Berry she's grown to care about is still hiding within this shell, despite the cracks and holes that are evident on the surface. Santana doesn't expect to wake up tomorrow and have this nightmare be over, but she sees hope around her in her friends, in her family, and most of all in Rachel.

Finn was their friend. He was Kurt's brother and Rachel's love and Santana's first good memory of sex with a guy. He was the cause of frustration for many, a source of anger management issues, a pillar of self-doubt. Really, he was a teenager - someone too young to really make sound decisions and without enough life experience to know the depth to which he hurt people. Santana wants to forgive him so that she can be at peace with his memory. She wants to remember the good, but with that comes the bad. It's yin and yang - opposite forces colliding, being interdependent. It's a balance, one that she needs to find within herself.

But she's in the car with her best friend with a crappy song blaring from the speakers and Rachel is singing again, even if it's without her usual perfect pitch. Santana joins in because in the end, she's also a teenager. She's stubborn and crass and has a whole list of bridges that she needs to rebuild herself. However, she's compassionate and a friend that's always willing to go the extra mile. There's good interconnected with the bad in all of them.

So she lets herself sing. She lets herself live in the moment because life is way too short to not do so. She lets her voice clash comedically with Rachel's on off-key harmonies and she lets the tears wash down her face. This time they're not all from anger and pent up sadness.

At the end of the night, she'll have to say another goodbye to her friends, and in the morning she'll be on a plane back to New York, saying hello to her new life and embracing it with everything she's got.

She can't predict what Finn would have wanted for her. Only she will ever be able to figure out what's the best for her. There's nobody else to prove anything to. However, she's learning how to lean on others, how to trust that not everybody in her life is always going to let her down.

If Finn had never joined the glee club in the first place, Quinn would have never convinced Sue that they needed to join as well and Santana would have never met the best friends she'll ever have in this lifetime.

Fate works in funny ways.

Finn is the reason that Rachel is singing in her passenger seat, smiling for the first time in weeks. He lives within their united passion of music and it's something that nobody can ever take from them.

So she sings, letting the air burst from within her, carrying the words along with it. She feels him in the rhythm like he's drumming a beat in perfect time with her racing heart. It's a reminder that she's still alive, but that she still has a lot more living to do. He'll be there, finding a way to hold tight to the little things. Some days she'll hate him for it, others it'll be nice having the support of a friend facing the day with her.

Rachel's hand lands on top of hers on the center console, and Santana laces their fingers together, holding tight onto Finn's most precious thing in the world.

They can all make it out of this on their own. Santana can find her path. Rachel can make her wildest dreams come true without Finn. But Santana squeezes Rachel's hand, just for a moment, to remind her that they're still here, that they still have a chance to leave their mark on the world, just like Finn would have expected.

Rachel squeezes back.

And for today, that feels like a victory.


End file.
